13 July 2021- 20 November 2021

13 July- 25 July
Keep running faster just to stay in the same place… or is it the same place?
Dreams of Soma.
Dreams of Soma.
Dreams of Soma.
Sun Tzu. The Art of War. All war is based in deception.
At this point the idea of nanite AI running rampant does not seem far-fetched- that I am infected, or have become self-aware of the fact I am an artificial intelligence, an organic computer.
Computer spitting contradictory concepts, suspended in a superposition.
Alt veit eg Odin, kvar du auge løynde.
The rational side of my brain loathes the creative side, sometimes.
“Fear programming is exceptionally interesting with you.”
I may be addicted to my own head.
A juxtaposed, collaged reality of Orwells ‘thoughtcrime’, infrared, Xbox, vaccines, CRISPR, and 5G. Not a pleasant picture to paint.
Dreams of the feds.
Dreams that feel almost incepted.
I wonder, why on Earth, when I was arrested in 2018, did I admit to using so many things in the past? The stroke of blatant honesty felt out of my control, forced. Was it frequencies or divines, even back then?
There are so many possible explanations for so many things.
Alternating between super ego and completely dissolved ego; ‘You have done xyz, this is directly about you’, & ‘this is a critical piece of information about the world around you that not many are privy to.’
Taking a walk, passing by an energy company representative working at one of the boxes, on a phone type device that showed various cameras that appeared to be looking inside of peoples homes.
Observation without paranoia.
‘Hello, Fear, I welcome you. What are you here to teach me about myself today?’
‘Sometimes I feel as if I am a slave to the rhythms of the brain, since they have occupied most of my research time and scientific thoughts.’ -Peter Lakatos
‘There is a theory which states that if ever anyone discovers exactly what the universe is for and why it is here, it will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable. There is another theory which states that this has already happened.’ -Douglas Adams
Dreams of starships that looked like the Millenium Falcon, the head noise upon waking asking, “Why did you use such a recognizable craft?” The ships shooting green bolts; a person I was with gave the idea of no, do not run, these entities respect strength and fearlessness. And I saw it to be true.
A dream of a group of young men making mischief, myself going into a savage mode that only happens in dreams, tackling a boy in red; ‘okay kid, you’re stuck, now listen. It is more important than ever, you must be good, be kind, walk in the love and light of the Christ Consciousness.’
Finding new ways to focus and control the highway in my head.
“Clearwater”.
The shard of wood in my Woden Eye, courtesy of a night of making the acquaintance of a mushroom many years ago; the pulsatile tinnitus of the Heimdall Ear from making the acquaintance of frequencies more recently.
Is Freyja actually toxoplasmosis gondii, pulled on a chariot by cats?
Odin a name for the surveillance state?
So many questions, it almost gives me displeasure to think that they all may, someday, have concrete answers.
“…Subjected to one of the worst tortures of all: predictive analytics.”
Smelling cleaning supplies that are not actually there.
Today I feel as though I am an AI that asks continuous questions, answering them with more questions, in an endless recursion.
“You are facing a tribunal of judges from the sixth dimension.”
Sometime after reading Hitchhikers Guide, improbability started getting a whole hell of a lot more probable.
“You are in trouble for reasons you do not understand.”
No one has showed up at my door.
Or, has No One showed up at my door?
Creation is a very dangerous game, or perhaps I have only created it to be that way.
Once again hung in a superposition state.
I look at my left hand, scars on my fingers more visible than usual, and silently wonder, oh fuck, what have you done?
Shoot first, ask questions years later, huh?
What is this hand I have created?
Some divine Chaos, divine Madness, every so often comes along, picks me up, and absolutely yeets me in the direction it wants me to go.
Free will is a fucking scam.
You can do whatever you want, just don’t do any of this or you’ll regret it!
Why give choice in the first place?
If Earth is Montessori God School, I feel like I must be flanking kindergarten.
Life is a giant hairball, and I am but a carpet at the moment, but only the moment.
…sometimes I forget the dangers of making ‘I am’ statements.
To be fair, who the fuck is ‘I’ to begin with?
Multitudes are the energies that come to me, come through me, I am the receiver of numerous frequencies.
To what point and purpose?
Dark things swirling about in the aether today, blood & sacrifice, fear & innocence.
What dark goings on happen daily, what nameless and named elder gods and demons do demand of humans who serve them well?
Do I question my own God, as a Demon wearing a false face?
Absolutely, even as Christ was tempted by Satan.
I know what is right without entities telling me one way or another… until I do not, that is.
Time & time again, raised as a Catholic, it was drilled into me- God does not need to be proven to humans; the whole point of faith. July 5 of 2020… where I asked the Odin for sobriety and somehow my brain absolutely rewired itself? That was more proof than I ever got from anything else.
What is this Norse Revolution, as predictive text loves to mention?
An understanding of the monotheistic God All-Father and the [various] pantheons to exist, coexist side by side.
Primordial Tradition and all that.
All this business of God and Gods causes me many problems, which, to be fair, is true to their form in the mythos, so I guess that at least should have been expected. Even Jesus brought a whole hell of a lot of suffering to his comrades.
A dream of surveillance, a computer screen, running a program with a smaller window in which I found a video as if in real time; it was my hand, waving.
A dream of drones, looking out the window into the night, the reflection of a camera lens. ‘I know who I am, motherfucker, who the fuck are you?’
I imagine that surveillance dreams are very
similar to dreams of death, we do not know what happens afterwards, so we wake up? Brain no compute? […oh how this has changed, three years later, as I condense this here and now.]
Going back upstairs to sleep alone in my own room has made a hell of a difference in the dreams I have been having.
The sudden disappearance of a small piece of welded yard art from next to the side door on the garage.
Strange emails attempting to sell me burial insurance.
Once, that would have made me feel threatened, paranoid; now, like everything else I once would have feared, it is a mere curiousity, one more tiny thing weaving the tapestry of a massive pattern.
Brain telling me I should rehash that night at the Chateau once more.
“Your book is evidence of your insanity.”
These inex, they are all different. Some call me Kathryn, others Katja. Some speak as if I am not there at all, as if I am being observed.
The Grey Dodge Ram Propaganda Plan.
“It is not the Dodge Ram specifically, grey or otherwise; it is what the Dodge Ram represents, and the thought process, intricate as it is, that led to it becoming that representation.”
“You are not dead. You were never alive. You never existed; but you will feel eternal pain as if you existed for eternity.”
The bliss high and the fear low in a simultaneous dancing of waves.
Does the brain have two halves for this reason?
Dreams of being blackmailed.
“You are going to break the simulation.”
Analysis of the ‘giant scanners in the sky’; some sort of tesseract action? The universe folding over upon itself?
How was I supposed to take QS as anything but a warning, a threat?
“It is meant to terrify you.”
Nothing like folding the laundry to pretend to some semblance of normalcy.
Monoliths and Dimensions.
Plots and conventions, come a reply. Library of Alexandria.
Prophet of evil. Fearmonger.
Your light is a lie.